


Primal Touch

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Abigail Lives, Biting, Blood, Bruises, Dark Abigail, Dark Abigail Hobbs, Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, Drabble, F/M, Kissing, Rough Kissing, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they have isn't love. In between the dividend of hell and salvation, the blood and bruises are what keep them alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primal Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This was a meme request someone sent on my Abigail roleplaying account, and I decided to share.

Blood and bruises had the power to unite people. In times of trauma, they cemented relationships and perhaps even strengthened them, but nobody knew this better than Abigail Hobbs. She stood before Will with her arms outstretched, shaking and mouth agape as she stared up at him imploringly. There was no need to tell him what had happened – no need to describe the way she’d torn into a man for groping her in the street – because Will already knew. He’d grown almost as perceptive as Hannibal.

At the corner of her swollen lower lip, a hint of dried blood remained from when the man had lashed out. Her palms were still kept uplifted, both flecked with patches of scarlet. “I…didn’t know where else to go,” she choked.

Will slid his hands into her hair then and palmed her cheeks, his thumb tracing her blood-stained mouth as Abigail lifted her eyes in curious appraisal. His arms moved to encircle her waist and she kept her hands out to the side, not wanting to touch him with her bloodied palms. His mouth sought hers and pressed bruisingly into her gasping lips, now angling in more strongly as several soft, hitching breaths rattled in her chest.

In her vulnerable state, Abigail ignored the potentially bad decision and gripped at Will’s curls with shaking hands, lifting her swollen mouth for a new type of assault as she whimpered into the harsh, demanding kiss.

 _“When you finally kiss a boy, Abigail, make sure it’s for love,”_ she could hear her mother advising.

This wasn’t love. This was pain and pleasure and  _survival,_  and with her nails clawing viciously at Will’s back, Abigail succumbed to her more primal side and bit down on his bottom lip. The taste of coppery blood fueled her.

 _‘We’re alive,’_ she thought. _‘Alive. Alive. Alive.’_


End file.
